


Try To Make It Work

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Anniversary, Baker Castiel, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, M/M, Teacher Dean, Teacher Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 07:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's almost been a year since he got together with the man who made the best pie he'd ever had. Unfortunately, Dean is and always has been a fuck-up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try To Make It Work

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, so this is a sequel to a story that I published ay the beginning of this year, and my writing has changed a lot. I'm thinking of putting more into this 'verse, little shorts or more stories, if anyone is interested in that aspect of it.

It's hard for Dean to believe that it's been nearly a year. Their anniversary is, in fact, a week from today. He smiles fondly at the framed photo in his hand, and sets it down on his desk. It's a photo that Jess took when they weren't looking, in which Cas is sitting next to Dean and kissing him on the cheek. Dean's smiling at him, his arm wound around his boyfriend's shoulder. They were at a fourth of July picnic and they're outside, the background green and leafy. They look very much in love, and it's not something that could easily be denied. It's one of Dean favorite pictures of them, despite how sappy that must make him, and it now sits in between his photo of Sam's family and the computer on his desk.  


The teenagers of his first period class start to file in, and he really should have expected this to happen. While high school students can't remember the year World War II ended, but they will take any chance to distract their teacher. And they notice everything that isn't related to school work. So, while he's standing up trying to talk about the Allied Forces, one of the girls in the class raises her hand. Sighing, Dean stops talking, knowing from experience that she's not going to put it down until he calls on her, "Yes?"  


"What's the new picture on your desk?" she says.  


"You mean this?" Dean asks, moving over and tracing the corners of the frame with his fingertips.  


"Yeah," says another student absently, like they'd accidentally spoken their thoughts out loud. The class all lean forward as one, looking so eager to know and Dean sets down his notes, thinking _What could the harm be?_  


He picks up the frame and turns it to face his students. If possible, they lean closer (and some must really be injuring their ribcages to get as close as possible), all trying to get a good look at the photo.  


"Who is that?" asks a guy in the class.  


"Oh," Dean says, looking down at the photo for a second as if he couldn't remember what was going on in it, "That's my boyfriend."  


The class breaks into chaos as soon as the last word leaves his mouth. Students are talking to each other, shouting at him, and the noise levels are getting out of hand. Dean hears a few things through the confusion, "He's _gay?_ " or "Wonder who bottoms." and even "He has good taste." and "It's a shame he's gay." There are also some fangirlish noises, something he recognizes from Jess' time on tumblr. He makes some motions for them to settle down, moving his arms in an up and down motion to imitate trying to get them to lower their volume. When that doesn't work, he puts on "teacher-voice", as Cas likes to call it (and he should not be thinking about that now and all of his fantasies involving that, even if none of them have ever happened before), and tells them all to "Calm. Down. Now.". Slowly, it begins to work, and they sit back down in their chairs and the roar fades into a loud whisper. Dean looks down at his notes again, placing the photo back onto his desk.  


Except, of course, Luke, who just shouts, "Fag!" at Dean who promptly points towards the door and says, "Principal's office." without looking up from his notes. Luke shuffles out of the room and closes the door unnecessarily loudly, and Dean says, "So, the Allied Forces..."  


When He gets home that night, pulling off his shoes and letting them drop to the floor with a thud, he's worn out. Cas is reading on the couch, he barely looks up as he says, 

"Tough day?" Dean groans dramatically, plopping down next to Cas.  


"I brought that picture of us into class today, just to set on my desk," Dean says, "You know the one? Of course the students wanted to know about it. Just about caused a riot."  


"Is that all that happened?" Cas asks, eyes still trained on the page.  


"Well, that Luke kid, the one that I think is the devil? He called me fag, but it's not really like I haven't heard that one before." Dean says, rising from the couch, "What do you want me to make for dinner?" He's clearly done talking about this, because it doesn’t matter what kids call him, and he's sure that none of the other teachers really care who he dates. His boss is someone he might have to watch out for, but Dean's been a believer in not hiding the things about you that you love for a while now. For the longest time he'd tried to hide himself and hide things that he liked that didn't quite fit the right mold, but when it hadn't worked, his family had still accepted him anyway. Sometimes he still caught himself doing things like that, and he had to remind himself that it was okay to be who he wanted to be. The only person he wanted to impress was already with him and fully aware of his love of baths and his strange sexual fantasies.  


"Burgers would be lovely. But we should have a salad, too." Cas says finally looking up from his book. Dean takes the chance to get a kiss, which Castiel gladly returns, if not chastely.  


"You've been talking to Sam, haven't you?" Dean asks when he pulls away, stroking Cas' hair absentmindedly from where he's standing. He likes Castiel's hair: the way it feels, the way it looks when it won't stay put (which is always).  


"Yes, but that doesn't mean that you don't need to eat healthier."  


Dean rolls his eyes, "Yes, says the man who spends his days baking what is essentially diabetes covered in frosting."  


Cas ignores him and stands up, "I will help you with dinner, if that's okay with you."  


"You, me, and a tiny kitchenette? I think I'm alright with that, yeah." Dean smirks at him, subconsciously licking his lips.  


They'd had some issues in their relationship at first, given that Dean was so sexual and Cas was just...not. He was asexual, he'd told Dean, but that didn't mean that he wasn't willing, later on down the road in their relationship, to do something with Dean, for him. They hadn't gotten there yet, but Dean's fine with that. Right now, he's happy just to hold Cas at night and see him in the morning, no strings attached. It's sappy and ridiculous for Dean, but he's happy with Cas, and he would do anything to keep them together.  


Being happy doesn't stop him for hoping for more, though. And their first anniversary would be just the perfect time for Cas to seduce him to bed. Right now, Dean knows, is not the right time to be imagining that particular course of action, and he pulls his mind away from that area of thought.  


Cas leads him by the hand into the kitchen like he's a child that needs watching over. They start their respective tasks, and Dean was right: the small space means that their bodies are brushing together just so slightly every time they move, but neither of them shies away. Dean considers that to be a good sign for things to come.  


The week passes in a domestic bliss that Dean is happy to admit to, and with some more intense doubting at the days progress closer that he's not as likely to admit. It's silly, and reminiscent of when he was afraid of commitment, so he's been ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He's woken up at four in the morning on their aniversary by Cas getting out of bed to get ready for work. Although groggy, Dean pulls him in for a chaste kiss and nuzzles at his neck before he lets him get up to shower and falls back asleep.  


The next time he wakes up on that day, he's alone, and although that's sad, he understands that it's Tuesday and he has to go to work, and so does Cas. Hopefully, they'll make up for it later on, but Dean isn't as sure anymore. The closer they got to this point in the week, he'd gotten more and more anxious. They haven't even said "I love you" to one another yet, and although Dean knows that he loves Cas, he's worried that Cas doesn't feel the same way.  


But they've moved in together, and Cas slept by his side every night and put up with his bad jokes and his morning breath. He should be comfortable with them, especially today, and he shouldn't be pulling a Dean Winchester and freaking out because a year is a _really long time_. And yeah, maybe he's a little freaked out by the fact that he doesn't _want_ anyone else, that he's actually happy having settled down.  


Regardless, he gets up at 6 am and is out the door by 6:45. It doesn't take too long to get to school and he's there by 7, striding into the halls humming Smoke On the Water to himself, saying a quick hello to all of the other teachers. He's happy enough this morning, all of the anxiety left back at his apartment, where it will hopefully be gone by the time he gets back home. Dean really doesn't want to be freaking out on today of all days. He really wants the day to go perfectly.  


"Mr. Winchester," His boss, Zachariah Adler says, stepping in front of him. Adler leers at him, looking Dean up and down carefully. "May I have a word with you in my office?" He doesn't leave time for Dean to argue, just turning on his heel and walking back into the central office of the high school, and through the ceiling to floor glass windows, Dean can see him moving into his office.  


If there's one thing that Dean hates about his job, it's be Zachariah Adler, who had somehow, despite a major hatred towards seemingly everyone and everything, managed to snag the job of principal.  


Sighing, Dean makes his way into Mr. Adler's office, settling himself down into the chair that his is offered with a sense of false welcoming.  


"Normally we would wait until the end of the school year to do something like this, you understand," He begins, looking not sorry at all despite his sugary sweet tone, and Dean knows where this is going already. His stomach clenches. "But your performance is so low that we cannot keep you any longer. We have a replacement for you already, so I just ask that you clear out your classroom and leave the school grounds before classes start."  


Dean knows why he's being fired, and curses himself for being so stupid, but that doesn't stop him from asking, "Why? Why are you firing me?" His jaw clenches and his stomach drops into his guts. So much for having a nice anniversary with his boyfriend.  


"Your performance is sub-par, Mr. Winchester. You are not teaching the kids up to state standards"--Which Dean knows is bullshit--"and you are spending too much time in class talking about inconsequential things. It was a hard decision, and one that we regret, but we are letting you go. It is only in the students' best interests, you know." Zachariah folds his hands on his desk and tries and fails not to look smug.  


Dean grits his teeth but doesn't say anything, rising out of his chair. He's afraid that if he even said a word, he'd lose all control and get into a yelling match. And if he did that, it would be even harder for him to get another job than it was already going to be. Instead, he does the adult thing and walks out of Mr. Adler's office and down the hall to his classroom. He lingers in the doorway, because he doesn't want to believe that this is the last time that he's going to get to be in here, that he's going to have to take everything down that he'd painstakingly put up.  


He doesn't want the room to be barren and empty. He's made his second home here, teaching students year after year about history, something he's surprisingly into. Dean has always had a connection with them, despite teenagers being little shits, maybe even especially because of that. He genuinely likes teaching them, and he finds himself missing them already.  


There's a box waiting for him on his desk, and he grips it so tight that the edges come out crimped with his fingerprints. The clock ticks away at him, though, so he knows he can't take too much time in saying goodbye to his classroom. He starts with the silly posters that he'd been against at first, but gradually grew to love, and ends with the framed photo of himself and Cas, holding it in his hand before placing it gently on top of the small pile in his box.  


No matter what happens, he doesn't regret being with Cas, doesn't regret being proud of that. He traces the photo gently with his fingers, taking one last look at his room before he has to leave for good.  


Someone knocks at the door, and he looks up. The door's still open, and there's a scrawny looking guy with shaggy hair and a dopey look on his face standing in the doorway.  


"Am I in the right place? I'm supposed to be taking over for Dean Winchester?" He's holding a bag under his arm and he looks about as nervous as Dean is angry and sad. But it's not this guy's fault that he was hired to take the place of Dean.  


"Yeah. I was just getting out of here, man. It's all yours."  


The guy smiles, apparently unaware of the situation, and holds out his hand. "I'm Garth. I'm really sorry about this." So he must know, but Dean just shrugs it off.  


"It's not your fault, dude. Just take care of those kids, yeah?" He doesn't give Garth the chance to respond before he picks up his box and strides out of the room. He really doesn't want to have to see any of those kids before he leaves the grounds this morning, and he doesn't want to have to exchange pleasantries with the first year teacher they seemed to have hired to replace him. He just wants to go home and crawl into bed and wait until Castiel gets back home.  


It isn't until he gets home that Dean breaks down. He's lucky that the bakery keeps them afloat well enough, because he's probably not going to get a full-time job until the next school year starts up, and until then he's going to have to sub. Almost as soon as he steps into the apartment, he pours himself a little whiskey and slumps into his favorite spot on the sofa, the bottle comfortably within reach. Right now, he just doesn't want to do anything but get drunk, and his anniversary is the last thing on his mind.  


He's well on his way to somewhere just past drunk when Cas gets home at noon, which, even in Dean's drunken state, isn't right.  


"Aren't you working late tonight?" He asks, slurring his words together horribly. It's a surprise that Cas understands what he's saying at all.  


"I took off early so that I could get home and surprise you." He looking at Dean carefully, speaking the words distractedly. "What are you doing home?" He narrows his eyes in concern; Cas can always tell when he's been drinking, even just the slightest, and Dean's been drinking more than just slightly. Looking back at Cas, he's suddenly hit with just how hard he fucked up their anniversary.  


"Fuck. I'm sorry, Cas," He says, forgetting the question that he was asked. "This was supposed to be special and I fucked it up by being the fuck up that I am." He slumps further into his seat and goes to take another swig but Cas reaches over and pulls the bottle out of his hand before he can manage. Dean frowns at his lack of alcohol, but looks up at Cas anyway.  


"What happened, Dean?"  


"I got fired." He swallows down the taste of bile and looks up at Cas like he's a savior of the world and has all of the answers to all of the problems, but Cas just swallows, takes a drink, and sets the bottle down on their shabby coffee table.  


"Why?" He asks Dean, settling down next to him, stroking his arm comfortingly.  


"Apparently my performance wasn't up to snuff, but I'm pretty sure that Adler's just a homophobic dick."  


Castiel tenses up next to him and clenched his fists, but he doesn't say anything for a few minutes. It's always been a sore spot for them, unexpectedly. They weren't in the most liberal of places, but most people still accepted their relationship without a worry. Most people weren't all, and they still got their fair share of backlash. None of it had hurt them so severely before.  


"Let's get you to bed, Dean, so that you can sober up a little bit. We can still salvage what's left of the day. I know you have something for me hidden in the hall closet. You aren't good at hiding things." He's smiling, despite how much Dean had fucked up this day for them, and starts helping Dean up, even with his complaining that he's not even tired because he'd just gotten up. He manages to fall asleep anyway. It occurs to him just before he falls asleep that maybe Castiel's smile is a little tight.  


When he wakes up for the third time that day, it's with a splitting headache and to the smell of burgers being cooked. The clock reads 6:03 pm, so he's been sleeping for a while and it seems to have done the trick. Dean groans and rubs his face, because he feels terrible about what he did to ruin their day. He'd been planning for it to be perfect for a while, built up this perfect idea of it in his mind and now he's the one that ruined it.  


He takes the painkillers that Cas has left on the side table for him, and shuffles down the hall to brush his teeth and then wanders into their kitchenette, blinking at Cas carefully before walking over to wrap his arms around him and place his head on Castiel's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Cas." He says, numbly, because he's not sure what else he can say. There really isn't anything that he can say to make it better.  


"It's not your fault that you were fired for being who you are and you cope with alcohol. It's your boss who has the bad timing." Cas keeps making the burgers; there are already vegetables cut up on the counter and he's got a glass of wine out. Dean hates wine, but Cas likes it sometimes so they generally keep a bottle of red in the kitchen. "Besides, you're here now, and sober enough and that's what matters."  


"I love you," He says, nuzzling in Castiel's neck, and it's not until Cas freezes up that he realizes what he's said. There's no taking it back at this moment, and he freezes, too, unsure of what to do. What if Cas doesn't love him back? What if this ruins their relationship forever? His stomach is a jittering mess, and he feels like he's going to be sick all over the kitchen floor.  


It's like he's just ruining their relationship in every way possible today, and his mouth is just speaking of its own accord. All of the words he thinks of to take it back freeze in his throat because they're not true and he does mean it, he means it more than _anything_ , and he hopes that Cas is okay with it.  


"I love you, too, Dean." Cas says, smiling slightly, "Although I hadn't hoped to say it this way."  


And Dean can't help himself, he has to kiss Cas after that, spinning him around, wary of his hands on the pan cooking the burgers, and kissing him passionately. They don't have to fuck for Dean to know that Cas loves him, and that he means it.  


Castiel leans into the kiss and then breaks away because he's afraid that the burgers are going to burn, but Dean's still happy anyway. He's happy to keep pressing kisses all around Cas' face and on his lips, distracting him while they cook. He's happy when they eat the slightly charred burgers later, and he's happy when they crawl into bed together without sex, after exchanging gifts with each other in the living room. He's happy even though he just lost his job and he's going to have to sub for a while, because Castiel loves him back, and that's enough.


End file.
